Dark Deliverance
by Carsten
Summary: A Deathwatch Squad, led by Brother-Captain Elemiah of the Dark Angels, is sent to the recently conquered Imperial world of Neraphim in order to secure valuable Inquisitorial records that were lost to an Ork invasion. Can Elemiah and his squad survive?
1. Chapter 1

Dark Deliverance

Chapter 1

When the divine Emperor of Man looked to the future, he saw the need for heroes. Against the forces of the daemons of the Warp, the hordes of Xenos that threatened humanity, and divisive threats from within, the Emperor decreed that there should be shining examples to fight against these dark terrors that plagued the Imperium. These men would be transformed by the Emperor and his sons. They would transcend mere humanity and become the Emperor's own angels of death. On wings of fire they would descend from the heavens and wreak destruction on those who sought the ruin of the Emperor and the Imperium of man. They would bring blessed retribution with chainsword and bolter. Clad in ancient armor, these warriors would grace the faces of countless worlds of the Imperium as the Emperor's own Space Marines.

The world of Neraphim burned. Orks, riding noisily through the streets of the Imperial world, set fire, crashed their wagons and bikes into walls, shot up Imperial shrines, and desecrated the very streets themselves where once proud legions of countless Imperial Guardsman had marched in time to hymns of the Ecclesiarchy. In a matter of weeks, the tide of Orks grew and grew and grew. PDF regiments were slaughtered. Tanks were left to burn and bodies left to rot where they fell. And the people of Neraphim were broken. It was this world that held the most complete records of the Ordo Xenos for the Segmentum Tempestus. It was a devastating blow to lose the world to Orks. But all hope had not been given up.

The Ork Space Hulk had been looted for parts. Its orbit decaying, the massive ship was falling in a cataclysmic rain of fire and molten steel as it bombarded the planet, chunks breaking off of the massive cobbled together ship. It was this single occurrence that allowed the Ordo Xenos to even consider what they were about to attempt.

Shortly before dawn came to the largest continent and their destination, Captain Elemiah of the Deathwatch awoke in his chambers aboard the sleek Inquisitorial cruiser, _Purge of Xenos_. It wasn't often that Space Marines slept for more than a few hours. Their incredible physiological makeup rendered more than two to three hours of sleep unnecessary, even over the span of several days. The Dark Angel had been a veteran among the Deathwatch for decades now. As much as he missed his battle brothers, he knew that his life was destined to be one of sacrifice. Of all the chapters of the Emperor's Space Marines, the Dark Angels were the most secretive, and the chapter most closely watched by the Inquisition. He was more than an obligatory nod to the Inquisition. He was the chapter's sacrifice. A battle brother who had agreed to serve as a lasting testament and living proof of the Dark Angels' commitment to the Imperium of Man. A dull red light flashed at the terminal in his quarters. They had emerged from the warp, their destination was in sight, and the Deathwatch were on alert to begin preparations.

Elemiah stepped to the drop pod in the launching bay along with Inquisitor Tolan Prin. The short human stood about a meter and a half in height. His lanky build seemed almost disproportionate to his height. His jet black hair and a thin handlebar mustache dominated his features and contrasted his cold crystal blue eyes.

"You understand your orders then." Tolan said sharply to the rest of the Deathwatch strike team that was heading down to the Surface.

"Go in, find the cogitators beneath the Inquisitorial headquarters, and begin a secure up-link to the _Purge of Xenos._ Then we call for extraction via Thunderhawk from the roof of the Inquisitorial fortress if not, we find some other suitable location and await extraction." Elemiah repeated the orders as he stepped up. He didn't like Prin. There was no love lost there and neither of the two men made any attempt to cover it.

"Yes. Precisely." Tolan said in an irritated, clipped tone. His upper lip twitched and his mustache seemed to curl a bit as he looked to the Deathwatch strike team.

"Good luck. I expect a communications blackout between now and the time that you call for extraction." Prin reminded them before turning on his heel to stalk away from the drop pod.

Elemiah watched the irritating little man walk away and stalk down the corridors of the _Purge_. Snorting, he shook his head and stepped into the pod with his brothers in the Deathwatch.

"If I didn't know any better. I would say you agitate him on purpose." Said Trax with a certain amount of pluck to his tone. His long blond hair flowed out over his black armor and he shot a grin to the Captain. A member of the Imperial Fists, his yellow-gold pauldron contrasted with his black armor as much as his attitude and his golden locks did.

Elemiah gave a small half smirk at the youngest member of the Deathwatch squad.

"He does do it on purpose... But the Inquisitor has it coming... For being a pompous arse." Grunted Wulfgar, the hefty devastator Marine. Checking over his plasma cannon once more, he snorted as he spoke.

Elemiah fixed Wulfgar with a stern gaze. The two had rarely gotten along and had a tenuous peace at best. The Space Wolves and the Dark Angels had a long history of animosity, and more than a few times their anger and distrust of one another had boiled over into bloodshed. Wulfgar fixed him with a dark gaze in return. He didn't like Prin either. But he only barely trusted Elemiah over the Inquisitor. And neither man had the Space Wolf's respect. The black ragged haired space wolf went back to checking over his plasma cannon to prepare for the drop.

The other members of the team dropped into relative silence as they neared the drop site. The pre-programmed flight coordinates would intermittently fire the stabilizer rockets as the drop pod was dropped through the debris path of the space hulk as it broke apart in orbit and rained down from the sky. With any luck, they could land unnoticed a few kilometers from the fortress, make their way in without being noticed. The hope was that without firing their weapons, they would be able to gather all the data they could from the fortress cogitators and make their way to the rooftop for extraction without firing a single shot. Extraction was another matter altogether, but it was hoped that by that time, the Orks would be caught off guard and would be unable to mount a defense to shoot down the Thunderhawk gunship that came to rescue them. They'd be out of orbit if not out of system before the Orks could scramble any anti-air defenses and find out that anyone had even been on the planet surface that didn't belong there.

Elemiah disliked letting the Xenos live. They had the blood of innocents on their hands. The blood of humanity had been shed by their despicable kind, and he longed to make them pay. It was small comfort that by completing his mission that the information they retrieved would help plot out actions by the Inquisition and other groups against Xeno threats throughout the sector for years if not decades to come.

The doors on the drop pod sealed shut and each brother stowed their weapons. Elemiah's bolter was securely strapped around his torso and his power sword was slung at his side. The safety harnesses came down over each of the twelve as they sat back and quietly waited while the countdown sequence began.

"From the lightning and the tempest..." Began Elemiah.

"Emperor deliver us." Responded his eleven brothers of the Deathwatch. Rote memory of the Fede Imperialis, a prayer said before battle imploring the Emperor's divine protection, echoed from 11 other voices as the Dark Angel captain led them in their prayers.

"From the begetting of daemons..." He continued.

"Emperor deliver us." They responded once more.

"From the blasphemy of the fallen..." Elemiah intoned.

"Emperor deliver us." The unit responded as one. One group. One faith. One purpose. That was what the Deathwatch survived on. Despite their disparate origins and the animosities and mistrust that their chapters might have had for one another, the Emperor's own Space Marines were brothers in faith above all else.

"We go now into the jaws of death itself. May the Emperor watch over us all. And those who do not return shall go to his side knowing they have died to perform their duty to him." Trax said quietly, quoting from one of the holy texts of the Imperial Fists.

The _Purge of Xenos_ hovered over the target area and a moment later the pod shuddered as they were launched out over the planet. The pod jerked and shuddered as they hit the atmosphere and the jets worked their ever so minimal work to ensure that the pod would be likely mistaken for a piece of falling debris.

The pod plummeted to the surface of Neraphim and nothing was fired up to greet them. Their ruse had worked. As it came to a large building, the retro-rockets fired and the pod slammed through the roof of the building and several floors before the pod came to a halt, each jarring impact sending a shock through the pod and their occupants. The doors splayed out as the pod came to a halt and the safety harnesses lifted. Elemiah and the others swiftly moved out, careful where they stepped as the pod had undoubtedly weakened the floor even where it came to rest.

"All present Brother-Captain." Wulfgar reported before Elemiah even asked for the report. He nodded a bit.

"We move through the building. Quiet. Check your corners. Trax. You're up first." He ordered. Trax nodded and hefted his bolt pistol and slipped his chainsword from its magnetic lock on his thigh. The young Imperial Fist stepped out of the room and they followed, quietly. Finding a set of stairs, Trax took a good lead, stepping down the stairs with practiced ease as if the power armor itself had no weight to it. The Fist checked his corners and nodded back up the stairway. The Deathwatch company appeared to have landed without being noticed. Through the walls they could hear other pieces of debris falling into other chunks of the hive spires and the habitat blocks. To a normal human, this would deafen the sounds of any ambushers or scouting parties coming to find out what had struck the building. But for the Space Marines of the Deathwatch chapter, their biological modifications overcame this problem. Each of them had far sharper senses than the normal human. They continued down farther and farther until the stairs led them down no further. Street level. Trax held up his fist as a warning to his brothers. The Imperial Fist warrior peered into the darkness as his brothers moved silently down the stairs. Trax's thumb hovered over the activation rune of his chainsword, ready to bring the weapon roaring to life.

When Elemiah and the rest of the brothers of the Deathwatch squad stepped into the open alcove of the hive's street level entrance, they saw it. The hunched forms of a dozen Orks digging through piles of refuse and debris from the strikes that had weakened and knocked down chunks of the hive spire. So intent on their looting were the Orks, that they didn't even notice the Space Marines fanning out behind them. Elemiah raised his hand and each member readied their weapons. Sighting down his own bolt pistol, he dropped his hand.

A torrent of fire ripped through the Orks, felling over half of them as the rest jerked about and looked up in surprise, wondering what had happened while they simultaneously took cover, fumbling for their own weapons.

"End this." Elemiah hissed. Trax charged forward and a moment later Elemiah sprinted across the open alcove's expanse to close with the Orks who were now roaring in indignation and firing across the expanse wildly.

"FOR DORN!" Trax hooted gleefully as he leapt over the pile of detritus they'd been scavenging through, and his boots collided with an Ork on the other side, crunching down and snapping the brute's ribs even as Trax thumbed the activation rune on his chainsword and brought it down in an arc to slice open the greenskin's throat.

Elemiah followed suit, drawing his power sword, which flashed as it activated, crackling with energy as he drove it into the open roaring mouth of another Ork. With a snap of his wrist, the top of the Ork's head disconnected from its lower jaw. The remaining handful were unsure if they should retreat or fight back. Their hesitation cost them their lives, as Elemiah's brethren fired off carefully placed rounds and cut them down. The bolt rounds exploding on impact as the mass reactive shells hit the Orks. The bodies fell and the Deathwatch squad regrouped.

"None escape the Deathwatch." Wulfgar said proudly as he surveyed the carnage. His yellow almost canine eyes glinted with battle lust as he looked over the dead Orks.

"And good thing. We do not need to draw further attention to ourselves." Elemiah cautioned. Wulfgar snorted at him, but said nothing. Elemiah knew that Wulfgar hated sneaking around. He was a Devastator Marine. He wanted nothing more than to put that plasma cannon to work burning holes through the Emperor's foes. This sneaking around that they were doing, was not to his liking.

"Move out. To the back. Come." Elemiah ordered in his short, clipped manner as he deactivated his power sword and reactivated the magnetic lock that kept it at his side. Bolt pistol in hand, he ordered Trax to once again take point as they stepped from the hive spire and into the underhive. They stepped from darkness and ruin, into hell itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Neraphim was a chaotic tangle of hive spires and streets laden with the wreckage of war. Military and civilian craft were scattered throughout the city. Chunks of buildings fell on occasion as they finally gave way to the brutal punishment of the Ork bombardment and the Planetary Defense Force's fervent actions to defend the planet from the Ork incursions. Now and again fires burned, sending up plumes of ash and toxic fumes from the oils and fuel that burned in destroyed vehicles. Orks and human remains were scattered almost everywhere they looked, and overhead were the sounds of roaring engines and the occasional shots from Ork looters firing their cobbled together weapons into the air and racing through the streets. Elemiah realized that even if they hadn't been quiet, their earlier firefight would likely have gone almost entirely unnoticed anyways. He shook his head and nodded to his Marines.

"We stay together. Keep to cover." He ordered as the Marines jogged throughout the city streets of Neraphim, making their way through the winding, twisting lanes, using the hulks of tanks, speeders, and commercial vehicles for cover.

Trax ran ahead a few dozen meters to scout, at Elemiah's orders.

"Greenskins." Came the warning. The roar of engines followed a second later as the Wartrukk barreled around the corner and veered at dangerously high speeds down the street they were on.

"SCATTER!" Shouted Elemiah, ordering his group to break up even as the Orks, upon finding new quarry, began to fire from the Trukk's pintle mounted shoota. The greenskins whooped and hollered at one another for having found some fighting to do.

His squad broke up in half a dozen directions. He and Wulfgar leapt to the side behind the ruins of a Leman Russ tank that had lost a track and whose turret had been chewed up by Ork fire. The Trukk zipped past their position and pulled a hard turn to come back around on the Marines. Before charging back down the street, however, half a dozen Orks leapt from the back of the vehicle and began firing, charging in a pell mell bloodlust.

Drawing his power sword, Elemiah snapped his thumb to the activation rune and the power sword hummed with life.

"Cover me!" He barked to Wulfgar. The Space Wolf gave a quick nod of his head as he swung out and leveled his plasma cannon.

"TASTE THE FURY OF RUSS!" Wulfgar howled in a canine manner, pulling the trigger as the plasma cannon unleashed a torrent of superheated energy at the charging Orks. Three of them scattered and dropped to the ground. One took the blast full in his chest. There was nothing left but the smoking scraps of what the beast had worn for boots. Elemiah felt the heat through his armor and a moment later, leapt over the small pile of debris that he and Wulfgar had taken cover behind.

"SONS OF THE EMPEROR! CHARGE!" He bellowed over the vox. Trax was right beside him, his chainsword snarling in vicious rage as the Imperial Fist whooped and invoked the name of Rogal Dorn, the Primarch of the Imperial Fists Chapter. They were joined a moment later by two more Marines, a brother from the Hawk Lords, and one from the White Consuls. The four charged down the remaining five Orks and crashed into them, brute strength colliding with ceramite power armor. As they clashed, a burst of autofire from the Ork Shoota on the Trukk cut through the Ork that squared off against Flavius, the White Consul. A moment later the shells tore through his power armor in a spray of crimson gore.

Elemiah cursed.

"Focus your fire on that Trukk!" He barked the order even as he raised his power sword to ward off a blow from the brutal twisted choppa that his opponent tried to bring down upon his head.

Wulfgar and the others heard the order and bolter fire riddled the side of the truck. The Space Wolf cursed that his plasma cannon required such a long charge time and he howled in impotent rage. Finally the cannon's capacitor was charged and he wheeled out, leveling the plasma cannon at the Trukk. Pulling the trigger on the plasma cannon, he launched another ball of superheated energy at the armored transport vehicle. The plasma impacted and rocked the trukk, a moment later the fuel tank catching fire and blowing the vehicle to pieces.

Wulfgar howled in victory.

Elemiah ducked and rolled to avoid debris from the explosion even as it slammed into the back of his Ork assailant, knocking the creature to the ground.

The Dark Angel scrambled to get up even as the Ork shakily tried to rise from the sudden impact. Without giving up the advantage, Elemiah thrust his power sword through the creature's back, twisting it and killing the monstrosity. His brothers in the Deathwatch moved forward out of cover, firing their weapons at those Orks which were just recovering from the blast of the trukk. Trax and Elemiah and Valentin of the Hawk Lords finished off the remaining Orks in close combat. The Deathwatch took stock of their casualties. Brother Flavius of the White Consuls had fallen and Brother Temujin of the Storm Lords was bleeding from where an Ork round had punched through his chest. He was standing though, the fierce son of Jaghatai Khan refused to let it show that the injury was going to slow him down at all. Apothecary Gellert of the Revilers removed Brother Flavius' geneseed to be returned to his chapter upon completion of the mission. Temujin refused the Apothecary's aid.

"There is no time to take care of our brother as is fit. Divide up his remaining ammunition and let's go." Elemiah ordered grimly. Within moments it had been done, and the Deathwatch resumed their trek to the large obsidian fortress in the distance, being doubly careful. They'd been lucky so far... And now their luck was beginning to catch up with them.

"Brother-Captain." Voxed Trax over the Deathwatch channel.

"Go ahead." Elemiah said, holding up his fist to signal a stop as the group trotted along, Trax well in the lead acting as a scout.

"Sir, there appears to be a PDF supply depot up ahead. No signs of any Ork presence there. Looks as though they've already looted the area and moved on." Trax informed him.

"Hold fast brother. Do not proceed until we are with you." Elemiah ordered.

"Understood Brother-Captain." Trax spoke.

The vox-bead went silent in Elemiah's ear and he waved his men forward. Moving the klick and a half lead that Trax had over the rest of the Deathwatch squadron, they found Trax crouched behind the burnt out wreckage of a Leman Russ battle tank.

"Has there been any change?" Elemiah asked Trax as they regrouped behind the destroyed tank.

"None sir. No activity at all, just as I reported." Trax noted with a shake of his head.

"I want a careful sweep toward the building. Three teams. Trax, you will take brothers Gellert, Temujin, and brother Tavius. Get around the back. On my signal, you'll storm in while the other two teams move in from the front of the depot. Any Orks that might be inside will be surrounded and we can cut them down." Elemiah ordered. The Apothecary and the injured Storm Lord moved with Trax, joined by Tavius, an Ultramarine. "Brother Valentin, you will take brothers Tassos, Rodrigo, and Elysius." He ordered. The Hawk Lord stepped forward, joined a moment later by Tassos of the Iron Hands, Rodrigo of the Crimson Fists, and Elysius, the Salamander, stepped forward and hefted his flamer. "You will come with us. Enter in from the right of the main garage door. Wulfgar? You and Matteo will come with me. We'll cover the left side of the garage door." The Blood Angel and the Space Wolf both nodded and joined Elemiah.

"Into position brothers." Elemiah ordered and the three squads set out surrounding the PDF depot. Trax and Valentin moved their squads into position and after a few more moments, each voxed their readiness, and their icons flashed on Elemiah's display.

"Mark!" Elemiah barked into the vox.

Swinging around, Elemiah brought his bulk against the thin, heavily damaged metal door that covered the vehicle entrance. Moving through the massive hole in the door on the left, Valentin did the same on the right as Trax and his group broke in through the back. The Marines were met with shrieks and a shout of alarm. Figures huddled about in the center of the room writhed in panic. Wulfgar's plasma cannon hummed as the capacitor charged. Something was off. As Elemiah's gaze adjusted over the course of a few seconds to the extreme darkness, a lump caught in his throat.

"STAND DOWN!" He shouted the order. Trax and Valentin had been charging forward, chainswords snarling angrily. At the order, both Marines backed off, and Elemiah's hearing registered the lowered pitch of Wulfgar's capacitor as he let the plasma cannon cool off from its charge. Elemiah and his Deathwatch Marines stepped forward as they saw the forms of a dozen or so humans. Dressed mostly in rags, one or two older men in what appeared to be ratty, tattered PDF uniforms gripping crude clubs served as the group's only protection.

"Emperor's Grace." Tavius muttered in shock at the discovery.

"Y-you... You're... You're Space Marines." Said a woman, stepping away from the others. Her blond hair was matted and filthy, her face smudged with dirt and grease from sleeping amongst the ruins of the PDF depot and hiding from the Orks. An electoo glittered dimly over her cheek. Some form of gang symbol, Elemiah guessed. "Does... Does that mean our prayers have been answered? You're here to save us?" She asked, her eyes brimming with a light that Elemiah knew in his heart he could not bear to extinguish.

As she stepped closer, Elemiah was struck dumb, watching her as her hands moved over the Imperial Aquila on his breastplate with a sort of reverence.

"The Emperor protects." She said softly as she looked up at him. "He has sent his angels to protect us." She declared, as if the entire matter was decided. There was no room for argument. There was no room for questioning, there was only the truth of her words. Her eyes, filled with hope, and her voice quivering with faith, she believed that the Deathwatch was there to save them. Was there to search for survivors and protect their small band of survivors. They might even be the only humans left on all of Neraphim.

None of the Deathwatch said a word, looking to Elemiah for his reaction. The Dark Angel looked down at this woman, this human woman that had such faith that they were here for her. Did she not know that the Emperor's work sometimes demanded sacrifice? The entire mission they were on would be jeopardized by the presence of these humans. He couldn't bring them. He had to deny her. He had to tell her that the Emperor did protect, but that the Emperor would not be protecting them, not through the auspices of Brother-Captain Elemiah and his Deathwatch Marines. He knew he could not jeopardize the mission for them.

But when he opened his mouth to speak, the only words that passed Elemiah's lips were a soft agreement. "Yes... The Emperor Protects." He told her, laying a large gauntlet on the shoulder of her slight frame. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Brothers. We rest here." Elemiah gave the order. Without another word, the Marines moved to sit amongst the survivors, who eagerly made room for their saviors. Gellert of the Revilers used his skills as an apothecary to check over the conditions of the survivors.

"I am Amarine." The woman who had approached Elemiah introduced herself.

"I am Brother-Captain Elemiah. Of the Dark Angels." He added, realizing that outside of the Imperial military hierarchy there might be those unfamiliar with the heraldic device on his right shoulder.

"A Dark Angel. One of the Emperor's own angels. One to save us." Amarine spoke with a melodic, almost fluid grace to her words that belied their filthy and degraded surroundings.

How could Elemiah tell her that he was not some fictitious guardian angel, but instead one of the Emperor's Angels of Death; one of the Angels of Death which rained from the sky and brought woe and destruction unto the enemies of the Imperium?

With such hope, such light brimming in Amarine's eyes? Elemiah couldn't.


End file.
